


Careless

by moonstoneclone



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: :), F/M, the mandalorian - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:47:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21762442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonstoneclone/pseuds/moonstoneclone
Summary: You weren’t a good mercenary. You were too soft, too trusting, too selfless. That might have been why the Mandalorian was drawn to you, in a sense that he felt obligated to do your job.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Dyn Jarren/Reader, The Mandalorian x reader, The Mandalorian/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 173





	Careless

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in like 30 min. Sorry for the mistakes and grammatical errors.
> 
> Disney don't sue me pls.

You weren’t a good mercenary. You were too soft, too trusting, too selfless. That might have been why the Mandalorian was drawn to you, in a sense that he felt obligated to do your job.

He sat in the corner at a small table, waiting for his contact to arrive. The bar is dingy, but not a complete dump. There were only two exits, only one with a door. He kept his eyes fixed on the bar guests, only momentarily glancing at the archway leading to the night air.

You stood out at the bar, your smile illuminating even the darkest corners of the room. He watched you interact with your admirers. Even the gruff bartender seemed to crack under your glow. You joke with the locals, people came up and introduced themselves to you. They were entranced. 

You had a little bit too much to drink tonight, the planet’s ale a little stronger than what you were used to. But, hey, it was your day off. Your informant had said your target wouldn’t be on-planet until tomorrow. One of the very nice gentlemen offered to walk you back to your hotel, but you decline politely, claiming you could handle yourself. They plead with you to take an escort home. ‘Just in case’, they said. You playfully roll your eyes and agree to find an escort.

Your eyes land on the armored man in the corner. He had been there all evening, watching the crowd from his table. He hadn’t moved an inch since you got here, meaning he was most likely hunting a bounty. He feigned a relaxed look, but you could tell he was tense underneath all that armor. You wonder if he was looking for the same target you were. 

You slide off your seat at the bar, saying farewell to your new friends before striding over to his table. He doesn’t look up at you as you approach.

“Hi! Do you mind if I sit?”

You take his unresponsiveness as an invitation and sit across from him, your elbows resting on the small table between you. You watch him as he continues to stare into the crowd, intrigued by his quiet behavior. He wore patchwork armor, reds and greens clashing together. You recognize one of his pauldrons to be from an Imperial Shoretrooper and wonder how many battles he had fought. 

“Zih Sol doesn’t come in until tomorrow afternoon.”

He still doesn’t look at you but he sits up slightly straighter, the only indicator that he heard you speak. With the ale finally getting to you, you groan and wipe your face groggily. “Since you and I have the night off, would you mind escorting me back to my hotel room? The locals want to make sure I’m safe.”

Nothing.

“I know it’s a little silly, but they are worried about me… and I don’t want to worry them, so can you at least just walk me to the exit?”

Nada.

You sigh, accepting your answer before standing, albeit shakily, and trudging towards the exit. The breeze feels good on your heated face, the alcohol finally starting to wear you down. You glance over your shoulder when you feel his presence and smile softly at him, letting him walk you all the way back to the hotel. 

He’s surprised when you invite him into the hotel. You don’t seem to care about the risks of this action as you continue to lead him to your room, even rummaging for your key in front of him. He counts at least 10 different times he could have incapacitated you.

It wasn’t until you had the door unlocked and had stepped inside that you turned around to face him. Your smile blinds him, throwing him off-kilter as you place a small hand on his arm, the soft touch disarming him even more.

“Thank you for walking me. Will I see you tomorrow?”

He only continues to stare down at you before disappearing down the hall, you watch his cape vanish around a corner. He didn't speak the entire night.

The Mandalorian feels paranoid. Strung up. Naked. Your careless actions shook him to his core. _Or was it careless?_ You couldn’t have been his contact, you asked about seeing him tomorrow. He didn’t recognize you from the Guild. He ascended the ramp into his ship, a sigh escaping his lips. He remains on high alert the whole night.

He’s crouched on a rooftop a couple blocks away, macrobinoculars clutched in his hands. The pink sun rays trickle through the window of the room and illuminate your sleeping form. You left the window open all night, curtains pushed aside. You yawn and stretch, turning over to face the window, to face him. He considers if you’re testing him, seeing if he is trustworthy. The Mandalorian watches you stand and disrobe. His face feels hot as you saunter into the refresher, leaving the door open as if inviting him inside.

Another careless action.

Perfume bottles and lotions lined the dresser, indicating that you had been here for at least a couple of days, your suitcase nowhere in sight. He also doesn’t see a tracking fob. 

You’re dressed in a sheer blue robe when you emerge again, hair piled high on top of your head. You open the window and wave to him, shouting to your stalker.

“Morning! Would you like some breakfast?”

He’s frozen in place, surprised you knew he was there. Maybe you _were_ testing him. Silently, he drops from the rooftop and makes his way towards the hotel, unsure. He maps out the hotel and recalls every exit. People move aside as he passes them on the street, their fear and intrigue palpable. He’s numbering every reason he shouldn’t be going.

Yet here he is, knocking on your door.

The sunlight hits him first, blinding him slightly. He blinks a few times before resting his eyes on you. 

You outshine the sun. You’ve dressed since he left, now sporting a tunic and pants, your hair in intricate twists close to your head. 

“Nice to see you again! Won’t you come in?”

His conscience screams for him to leave, to drop you, to do _anything_ else. _This is dangerous. Get out._

Once he’s seated, you set a plate of biscuits in front of him. “I know you technically can’t eat in front of me, but you can take as much as you want to bring back to your ship.”

You can see the wheels in his head turning. “I looked you up last night. You’re Mandalorian, right?” You sit across from him, making yourself a plate. At his continued silence, you glance at him. “You know, if you’re going to be my partner, you’re going to have to speak to me at some point.”

The Mandalorian abruptly stands, knocking over a glass in the process, and heads for the door. A gentle hand stops him. He lets it.

“Look at me.”

How do you do that, how do you make him blindly follow orders? He knows better, _acts better_ , than this. He’s tracked and hunted women before, he’s even partnered with a few hunters that were women. He’s killed.

“I just thought we could split the bounty, you know? I’m assuming your contact never showed up, but I have all the intel we could need. She’ll be flying in around 1200 hours. She’s meeting me at the port, thinking that I’m a past friend. My client prefers dead,” you add, searching his hidden face for any indication of rejection, “so this should be a fairly easy bounty.”

The Mandalorian was mesmerized. You talked shop like it was a leisurely walk in the park. And you trusted him completely; you gave him everything you had without batting an eye. Your hands trailed up his arms. No one has touched him that way since he was a child, but he didn’t feel comforted by it. Instead it set his skin on fire as if the layers of armor had been stripped away. 

Then you were both at the airport. He stood as your bodyguard, as a disguise and as a job. You greeted their target like an old friend, chattering excitedly with her, an arm wrapped around her shoulders as you lead her to a secluded restroom. You return alone, a large case rolling behind you. He takes the suitcase from you and leads you towards his ship on the outskirts of the city. You whistle in appreciation as you approach. Unexpected pride swells in him as you admire his transport. 

The Mandalorian didn’t see it coming. He was always so observant. 

Your selflessness got in the way, pushing him behind you as you took a shot at the other Bounty Hunter.

The Mandaloran dragged you onto his ship, the wound in your chest still burning your flesh. Once behind a wall he collapses to his knees, still holding you in his arms. You’re trying to breathe, your face contorted in excruciating pain. You cling to him like a lifeline. He doesn’t know what to do, the wound is too deep and they can’t go to a hospital. 

You’re breathing is getting weaker and some tears escape your eyes.

Beautiful. He didn’t understand what that word meant until he met you. You had turned him inside out without a second thought, without a second glance. You had bewitched him, he fell into your web just like their bounty did. He doesn’t know if he got out alive either. 

The blood that escapes your lips draws him back to reality. You were dying. He would be free from your web, but he dreaded freedom from your captivity.

You grab his shaking hand, looking up into his helmet. “Talk to me, please. I want to hear you before I…”

He doesn’t know what to say. He pulls your form closer to him, struggling to say something, anything, to please you. He gently cups your face.

“You are… too careless.” His voice cracks. He doesn’t care.

You’re slowly blinking out of consciousness. He prays that you heard him as he rests his forehead against yours, gently stroking your face with his gloved hand. 

Your voice barely registers with his helmet. “Beautiful… thank…”

The Mandalorian was free.


End file.
